


Junkie

by bloodandcream



Series: Ship all the Ships [60]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bikers, Face-Fucking, M/M, some internalized homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-20 01:14:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4768028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was a hand at his throat and teeth at his lips before he could laugh. He was baiting Cain, sure, generally not a good idea, but Cain wanted to be baited or they wouldn’t be here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Junkie

John waited in the shadow of the East facing side of the abandoned warehouse. Most of the street lights were busted out on this side. Windows too. Glass littered the cracked asphalt lot and concrete sidewalks. Bright graffiti tagged the side of the building and the pathetic chain link fence around the lot was twisted and mangled, useless. There was too much pollution to see and stars and too many clouds to even see the moon but it wasn’t like he was looking up anyway. The red glow of his cigarette brightened on an inhale when he heard the roar of a Harley around the corner above the traffic of the nearby high way.

His piece sat warm at the small of his back tucked in his jeans, comforting and familiar while he lounged against the rough brick and waited for the rider to show up. Slouching, he crossed one ankle over his other, steel toed boots heavy. With hands tucked in his ratty jean pockets, leather vest open, he was the picture of casual.

Even in the dark the figure on the Harley was familiar, broad shouldered, long hair wild and loose. Cain parked parallel to John’s bike and strode over to stand in front of him straight and tall. Looking down at John’s slumped lean. He smiled around his cigarette, blowing smoke out the corner of his mouth. Cain crossed his arms over his chest.

Spitting the stub on the asphalt, John stomped it out. “So what’s so fucking important you gotta call me out here at three a.m?”

Cain’s expression was sour, fucking full of disdain. “Michael might show up at the drop tomorrow.”

John was at alert in an instant. “I’m sorry, what? You’re fucking shitting me.”

“No. It’s not certain, but he’s been closing in.”

“Well tell Luke to keep a handle on his own goddam family, that’s not something the Hunters should be worrying about. That was never part of the deal.”

“I’m perfectly aware of what was part of the deal. And it will be handled. But you should be on alert.”

Scrubbing a hand over his face, John scratched his short trimmed beard and turned away to pace. He should bring more of his crew if there was even the smallest chance Michael was going to show up. But not everyone even knew they were dealing with Luke, not yet.

“Fuck.”

“I know. Look, we’re going to bring extra too. And Luke’s sending Az out to intercept. It shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Yeah, yeah, but it might be. Coulda told me on the phone instead of dragging my ass out of bed, getting too old for this shit.”

Cain huffed and rolled his eyes. Actually, yeah he was probably older than John. Not like he’d ever ask. No one asked questions about Luke’s right hand man. God, John couldn’t believe they were still tangled up in this shit, their original deal was done and over a long time ago, but go figure, you make a deal with the devil once and he owns your ass forever.

“I had other reasons for luring you out here.”

John glared at Cain. He’d stepped up close enough their boots bumped. John stepped back and the brick wall was there. Cain leaned on a hand next to John’s face. Well, if he had to come out here at three fucking a.m. it might as well be worth more than just a fucking warning.

“What you getting too old for the pretty girls hang around your club?”

There was a hand at his throat and teeth at his lips before he could laugh. He was baiting Cain, sure, generally not a good idea, but Cain wanted to be baited or they wouldn’t be here. John kicked his knee out. Not like Cain was getting too rough to start. But John wanted him to.

When Cain stumbled back he followed with a jab to his stomach. Cain lashed out and caught his arm, spinning him and slamming him face first against the wall, using weight and a painful backward wrench of his arm to get John to still.

“You know better than to talk back like that.”

The skin of his cheek scraped open against the brick and John pushed back with his free elbow, not enough to leverage to get any momentum. It was still fun pissing Cain off. His arm was twisted up higher tugging at the socket and fingers digging in through his long shirt cruelly. A car alarm started going off in the distance and people were screaming. Cain was pressed against his back, thick muscled and mean.

John was wondering if he should goad Cain some more, twisting in his hold trying to get his arm free, when he was hauled with a hand in his short hair. Cain kicked out his knee and dragged, spinning him around and slamming him against the wall on his knees. John reached up, fisted his hands in loose denim and hauled Cain’s hips closer. Pressed his face to the man’s warm stomach, nudging his shirt up and biting.

A knee pushed his shoulder back, pinning. Cain had him crowded back and boxed in. John was fucking salivating like a goddam dog and it was degrading but he opened his mouth and yanked Cain’s jeans open. He was fucking sick. A goddam fag. There wasn’t no place for this that wasn’t some dirty rubble strewn lot a long way’s from where he lived, where he conducted business. Cause this shit could not see the light of day or John would be ruined.

Cain gripped his chin and tugged, pushed a thumb past his lips and wrenched his mouth even wider. Saliva pooled behind his teeth, spilled out over Cain’s hand. He smeared it on his cock and pushed forward. Slid his hand around behind John’s head and pulled. One battered leather boot settled on his thigh and leaned, heavy weight pressing him down on hard rough ground and it was gonna fuck his knee up but John did not give a single shit.

He gripped onto Cain’s warm hips and went slack as the man fucked his mouth. Oh, John could get it up for any pretty young pussy in his face and he could fuck like the man he was supposed to be and he could hold his goddam place. But nothing got his cock as hard as this, made him fucking drip precome in his jeans, balls already drawing up tight and that hot barbed knot of disgusted wanting already coiling in his belly.

Cain was thick and uncut, foreskin drawing back around his head as he fucked into John’s mouth, hot and hard and long enough to shove into his throat like it fucking belonged there. Scrape him raw and leave him feeling it for days.

He would beg if he could, turn around and shove his pants down and beg like the pathetic bitch he was for Cain to fuck him proper but that wasn’t gonna happen. This was enough. It would have to be. Calloused fingers tightened in his hair and shoved his head forward, vicious thrusts made his jaw ache as spit trickled down his chin, soaked his beard.

Hunched over him, booted foot skiddering up his thigh to press against his crotch, Cain took whatever he wanted. And gave John what he needed. He gagged when Cain shoved into his throat and stilled, cock twitching. Swallowed reflexively as he spilled hot and thick, bitter on the back of his tongue as Cain pulled out. Cain rubbed his cock on John’s lips and tapped his foot down hard rubbing. Shuddering, still held in rough hands and tonguing at Cain’s wet cock, John came in his jeans and it was better than any pussy he’d ever been buried in.

John knew he was fucking sick but like any good addiction he’d do bad, bad things for his next fix. Cain had known what he was the first time they laid eyes on each other. Like any good addiction, his dealer knew how to string him along with just enough.

John turned his head and spit, shoved to his feet pushing Cain back. Pulled another cigarette out of his pocket and waited for Cain to ask for one.

What’s a dealer without a junkie.


End file.
